Beautiful Kauai

Madeleine Kando

Of the many places I've traveled to in my long life, Kauai remains my favorite. I've had a decades-long love affair with this beautiful island. The moment the plane lands on this tiny speck of land in the vast Pacific Ocean, I feel at home. Every night, the soothing surf lulls me to sleep, and during the day, the trade winds caress my skin like a silken glove. The lush green of Kauai’s mountains and valleys contrasts perfectly with the red ochre of its soil. As the oldest of five sisters, Kauai, in my opinion, is also the most beautiful.

Kauai is rainbows and white foam, blue waters and soaring tropical birds. Bursting with life in May, it exudes an intoxicating fragrance. Her tree barks streaked with red and purple seem as if a child secretly finger-painted them.

Watching the sun slowly rise out of the sea, I spot two red-crested cardinals landing on the railing of my lanai. Their tiny, perfect forms with candy-colored crests hop along as I place crumbs for them. Timid mynas keep watch on the roof, resembling professors with yellow glasses. Their calls, unlike the high-pitched whistle of my little red-crested friends, are not exactly music to the ear.

Despite its serene beauty, Kauai's geologic history is a volcanic inferno. Mount Waialeale began erupting 10 million years ago, and the island itself is 5 million years old. Kauai spent half of its life submerged in the Pacific, until enough volcanic activity brought it above water. Erosion has since sculpted the island's breathtaking landscapes.

Constantly battered by waves, Kauai’s shoreline is marked by large caves, like bite marks from an angry ocean. The deep valleys and razor-sharp ridges of the Waimea Canyon leave an indelible impression. Steep cliffs jut out into the ocean like a giant hand dipping its fingers into the foamy waves. Nature’s artistry needs no enhancement.

The island’s existence is a constant battle against the ocean’s power. Houses stand on stilts, roads feature floodgates, and every trail bears warning signs: ‘approach the ocean at your own risk’, detailing the history of fatalities.

Unique Hawaiian Islands:

Kauai’s sister islands are neatly aligned like pearls on a string, part of the Hawaiian-Emperor Seamount chain, stretching over 4,000 miles to the Kamchatka Trench in Russia. This vast mountain range's oldest members are 80 million years old, with islands becoming younger as you travel south. The Big Island, Hawaii’s youngest sister at half a million years old is a mere toddler but will, one day resemble Kauai—a middle-aged, lush green paradise.

The Pacific gave birth to Kauai and will one day be her grave. Sinking and moving northward at an inch and a half per year, Kauai will transform into an atoll before disappearing beneath the ocean’s surface. Eventually, it will subduct under the Eurasian plate, be recycled and reemerge as a newborn volcanic island.

You lose your sense of time here. We sit on our lanai, the vast expanse of the Pacific all around us, as if we were on the bow of a ship, frigate birds soar in the sky against a backdrop of slow-moving clouds. Then, a dark-looking curtain approaches over the water. Drops are falling now, diluting the wine in my glass, curling the pages that I write on, dabbing my bare, suntanned legs.

At times, this turns into a full-blown tropical storm, angrily shaking the windows. We push towels against the glass doors, trying to keep the apartment from flooding. The wind is howling, chairs on the lanai are doing the polka, and everything is in motion. The sound of the storm pierces our ears and we wait with beating hearts until it passes and travels south. We hear the announcement on TV: they closed the bridge to Hanalei. Visitors will be trapped there for the next 3 days, until the flash floods have receded.

We go hiking on the Power line trail, a 21-mile stretch ending in the middle of the island, where much of Jurassic Park was filmed. If you stay long enough on this island, everything you own turns the color of the soil. Cars, shoes, houses.. they are all rust-red. The whole island is like a huge rusted pan.

Snorkeling:

We went snorkeling off Anini Beach, known for its turtle sightings. Swimming near a huge brain-shaped coral boulder, I was surrounded by small damselfish. Suddenly, big eyes appeared—attached to a giant turtle, motionless on the ocean floor. It was a turtle car wash, tended by damselfish feeding on algae on the turtle’s back. While admiring the fish, I encountered a surprising sight: a human running on the ocean floor, carrying a heavy rock. He surfaced briefly for air, gave me a thumbs-up, and dove back down to continue his training.

Hideaway Beach:

Descending to Hideaway Beach, though treacherous, was worth it for the snorkeling. The coral, close to the surface, required navigating narrow trenches to avoid scraping against its sharp edges. While fish abounded, turtles were absent. The climb back was agonizing, a reminder that this trail was not designed with my age in mind.

Wildlife and Navy Presence:

Kauai hosts 450 thousand wild chickens, outnumbering residents sevenfold, and descendants of the Red Jungle Fowl that escaped during Hurricane Iniki. Their incessant crowing punctuates day and night. Feral cats, numbering twenty-five thousand, help control rats but threaten local bird populations. Abandoned hunting dogs roam Waimea, emaciated and forsaken by their owners. Few tourists know that America’s Navy operates significantly on Kauai, including the Pacific Missile Range Facility at Barking Sands, the world's largest instrumented multi-domain range. Even in the midst of Waimea Canyon’s wilderness, the presence of the US Navy was evident.

Conclusion:

What makes Hawaii so special? The trade winds, the ocean's song, the scent of guava trees, the red soil, and vibrant greenery create a unique harmony. It's a combination that hits the sweet spot unlike any other place on earth. leave comment here